


Waking Up Love Drunk

by ronans



Series: Prompts [28]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Drunkenness, Kissing, M/M, Marriage, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:11:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3617733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronans/pseuds/ronans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Prompt:</strong> Ian and Mickey get drunk sometime after Ian is out of the hospital. And they end up married and the next day Mickey is freaking out about it but also very giddy and happy about it - <a href="http://southsidemilkovich.tumblr.com/post/114648433399/hi-i-have-a-prompt-if-your-taking-any-ian-and">jackdanielsxoj</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up Love Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I thought I'd set this from 5x10 onwards but where we just forget Sammi happened and they went on their date :)))) and then got drunk together after their date :)))) and then got married woah okay  
> Also, I'm just going to pretend Mickey got properly divorced from Svetlana someway somehow before this

Mickey’s mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with sand when he wakes up, and there’s a painful crick in his neck from sleeping weirdly. But at least he’s in his own bed; he guesses that’s one good thing to take away from this.

He groans and rolls over into much softer pillow than the one he’d been previously hugging. He should probably feel strange about that fact instantly, but it takes a few moments for his mind to catch up. When it does, he sits up too fast in the bed and grips his head, squinting at the body beside him. So apparently he’d been hugging Ian in his sleep. He bites his lip to hide a smile and then slowly snuggles back next to his boyfriend, because his smell’s making him the good kind of drunk again rather than the remnants of the night before’s alcohol abuse kind.

Mickey reaches up to brush Ian’s hair back and narrows his eyes at his face, because he’s sure Ian’s freckles stand out more in the light of the morning than they ever have before. Maybe he starts to count them. Maybe he reaches up his hand again to thread his fingers through Ian’s hair. Maybe he thinks he loves everything about Ian. Whatever, he can think like this, it’s not like he’s going to fucking _propose_ to the- oh shit. Mickey’s most definitely awake now because what the fuck is that silver band on his ring finger? Where the fuck did that come from?

He blinks slowly, eyes locked on the ring. It’s different from the one he’d worn when he’d been married to Svetlana. That one had been gold and plain. This one’s silver and fucking _engraved_. This one looks like it cost money.

He’s not sure whether he should wake up Ian or not, because A, how the hell is he supposed to discuss this with the (most likely to be even more hungover) guy who’s wearing the matching wedding band, and B, he sort of wants to rewind and quietly lie next to the sleeping heat furnace. He sighs and gingerly rests his head under Ian’s chin, hugging against him and eyeing his wedding ring out of the corner of his eye. He can’t help but feel himself twitch a little with excitement at the idea of being married to Ian. Even though this is probably a bad fucking drunken idea… it’s kind of not, at the same time. Mickey closes his eyes and searches through his memory of the night before as he feels Ian’s steady breath ruffle his hair.

Mickey remembers the date. He remembers how happy Ian had looked as he tucked into his promised steak, how he was still a little tipsy so his cutlery had screeched as he cut into the food too forcefully. Mickey had grinned and asked him over and over again if he was alright, in more of an amused tone than anything. Ian had nodded and had just looked so content to be sat in a grimy booth at a random diner (apparently there wasn’t a Sizzlers around their neighbourhood, go figure), wearing his best shirt, _with Mickey_.

He has to squeeze his eyes shut more tightly to remember what happened after they left the restaurant.

*

_It hadn’t taken much alcohol at all to get Ian full-on hammered again because of his meds. Mickey’d had to down shot after shot just to keep up with him. It wasn’t long before Ian was suggesting V get out the karaoke machine, but Mickey had refused, referencing their earlier singing, and Ian had given in. The offered alternative had been kissing, and neither of them were going to turn that down._

_‘’Nother shot,’ Mickey calls, waving down Veronica and then sliding a few dollar bills over the counter._

_V sighs and lifts an eyebrow, throwing her dishcloth on the bar top and reaching for the half-empty bottle of Jack and a clean shot glass. ‘You might wanna slow down on the heavy liquor.’_

_Mickey scoffs and accepts the shot off her, throwing his head back and spluttering because Ian laughs at him, because Ian wraps his arms around him, because Ian nuzzles his nose against his throat. He nips at Mickey’s skin and then presses his lips onto the bite mark in an attempt to soothe it, but Mickey still fucking loves it._

_‘You’re so great, Mickey, you’ve been so great to me,’ Ian mutters, exhaling softly. Mickey feels the words in his bones. He turns around in Ian’s arms, cradles his face and kisses him like he’s about to fucking die and it’s the last thing he’ll do. He can’t remember his emotions feeling so magnified when drunk. He supposes he hasn’t been drunk and happy at the same time in a_ long _time. Maybe ever._

_‘I could fuckin’ marry you right now,’ Mickey mumbles against Ian’s lips. Which probably wasn’t the best thing to blurt out considering there’s some truth to it and Ian’s plastered as hell._

_Ian rips his mouth off Mickey’s and grabs onto his shoulder, his other hand clutching at his beer glass. ‘Really?’_

_Mickey’s pretty alarmed at the enthusiasm but he’s buzzed and he’s happy, and he’s so fucking gone on Ian it’s ridiculous, so he nods and leans further into his boyfriend’s space because he can’t keep away from him for too long._

_‘Kermit! He fucking married Frank and Sheila! He can marry us, Mick!’ Ian laughs, slapping Mickey’s shoulder as he gets more and more excited._

_Mickey shoves Ian’s hand away and rolls his eyes. He’s at least a little bit rational, even when he’s feeling completely in love and, fuck, he’d do anything to keep Ian grinning like that. ‘You seriously wanna do this?’_

_Ian beams at him at pulls Mickey in for a sloppy drunken kiss where their teeth clack together and it’s horrible and perfect at the same time because they’re smiling and over the fucking moon._

_‘’Course I am… ‘Course_ you _are,’ Ian slurs before licking into Mickey’s mouth. There’s the sound of Ian’s beer glass shattering against the floor as he brings up both of his hands to cup Mickey’s face as they kiss, which is shortly followed by Veronica’s irritated yelling. But they don’t care, because they’re getting married, they’re actually doing it._

_When Ian finally releases Mickey, he whirls around and claps Kermit on the back. The hunched over man tenses and turns his wide eyes to Ian and Mickey, making himself appear like he hadn’t been listening in to their entire conversation. The bar’s pretty quiet tonight, and sound travels, especially if it’s being emitted by an inebriated Gallagher and a Milkovich, so there’s no way he hadn’t heard them._

_‘Kermit, you’re gonna marry us, right? Here, now,’ Ian says, pointing his finger downwards in time with the last two words as if that’ll somehow accentuate what he’s saying. Ian being demanding is… honestly kind of hot to Mickey._

_Kermit sighs and drops the innocent act. He gulps down a shot of vodka and then nervously wipes his hands on his jeans, standing up and throwing out his arms. ‘Dearly beloved…’_

_Mickey rubs at his eyes and then removes his hand so he can look up at Ian. His dopey smile just tips him over the edge of total acceptance that this is the perfect thing to do. Right in the middle of The Alibi with only a few drunks and Veronica as she cleans up Ian’s broken glass as witnesses._

_Mickey doesn’t know if he’s ever felt happier._

*

Mickey snaps his eyes back open and realises how hard he’s breathing. Shit. So that actually happened. He’s still fuzzy on how they got such classy wedding rings, but he’s completely clear on the rest of it and also the fact that he’s probably going to have to wake up Ian as quickly as possible.

‘Ian… Ian, wake the fuck up.’ He gently nudges the sleeping body, but he just groans and breathes in deeply. Mickey mutters a curse and then shoves Ian a little harder, because he’s really fucking impatient to talk about this all of a sudden. And he wants Ian to be conscious to hopefully share the excitement and anxiousness that Mickey can’t seem to quell.

This was probably a bad decision... Right?

‘Jesus, Mickey, fucking stop,’ Ian whines, wriggling in Mickey’s grasp and hugging him back more tightly. And, no, Mickey doesn’t want to be killed by fucking octopus Ian Gallagher today. He’s married. He needs to deal with the implications of that shit before he can succumb to Ian’s incredibly good cuddling skills.

Mickey huffs and wrenches himself free, snickering at the even longer groan that’s released from the back of Ian’s throat. Mickey sits up and ruffles Ian’s messy bed hair as Ian tries to become one with the mattress. ‘Fuckin’ look at me, asshole.’

Ian frowns and his hair’s so long it all falls in front of his eyes and some of it’s slightly wavy from how much he’s rolled around in the night. Mickey fucking loves it. Mickey fucking loves _Ian_. He’s going to be saying that for forever, he thinks.

‘You’re just as beautiful as I remember, now can I go back to sleep? My fuckin’ head is killing me,’ Ian whispers, slapping his palm lightly over his face and obscuring it from Mickey’s view.

‘Now look at your hand,’ Mickey pushes on, lifting his eyebrows. He’s nervous for how Ian’s going to react, but at the same time he couldn’t give a fuck, because they’re _married_. He’s _married_ to Ian fucking Gallagher. He never thought he wanted this, but, well, it’s happened and he’s elated. And a little shit scared, but whatever, he’ll go with the stronger emotion right now.

Ian lifts his hand up and squints at his fingers. ‘Okay… still as freckly as always.’ Mickey narrows his eyes at Ian, mouth agape. Ian drops his hand back down on the bed and then bunches up his cushion in his arms. ‘Are you making fun of my freckles?’

Mickey stares at him incredulously before he grabs Ian’s hand. ‘Not that one, you dick, the other fucking hand.’ _And I’d never make fun of your freckles_ , he barely stifles.

Ian’s jaw drops and his gaze zeroes on the ring. ‘Uh, the fuck is this?’

Mickey worries his bottom lip between his teeth and then scratches the side of his nose. ‘I’m wearin’ the same one, so…’

Ian glances up at Mickey and then back down at his fingers, waggling them. ‘Huh…’

‘So I guess that means we’re…’ Mickey prompts, wanting Ian to finish it off.

‘…Married…’ Ian murmurs under his breath. It’s the wonder in Ian’s voice that makes Mickey’s heart thump a little too hard, and the slow grin on his lips that makes him swallow too loudly.

‘Yeah, man.’

Ian smirks and then sits up properly, eyes never leaving the wedding ring. ‘You really got drunk last night, didn’t you? And me as well.’

Mickey snorts and then sniffs. ‘Guess so.’

Ian peeks at him from under his lashes, fiddling with the wedding ring absently. ‘Is this a joke?’

‘Fuck no,’ Mickey answers too quickly. Fuck, he was supposed to be keeping a calm façade but obviously it wasn’t fucking working. ‘I remember… stuff. From last night.’

Ian chuckles and shuffles closer to Mickey on the bed. ‘Oh yeah?’

A playful smile crosses Mickey’s lips. ‘Yeah.’

‘So… who proposed?’ Ian asks, lightly pushing Mickey’s chest to guide him back down into a lying position on the bed. Ian hovers above him biting his lip and Jesus Christ, if Mickey didn’t feel so physically shit from his hangover, he’d be so turned on.

‘Well, I fuckin’ brought it up,’ he grinds out, placing his hands on Ian’s hips, and watching the shocked expression on Ian’s face that disappears almost immediately. He feels like he has to prove something to Ian through saying this, though he’s not sure what. Maybe that he’s invested in this relationship, he’s in it for the long run, no matter what fucked up bullshit they’ve been through or will have to go through from this point on.

‘Huh,’ Ian says again, pressing himself closer to Mickey and lowering his head so his mouth is right next to Mickey’s ear and he can hear his shallow breath. ‘You really want this?’

God, Mickey wants to punch him and scream _fuck you_ for even _thinking_ of questioning whether he wants this. But he remembers the night before, and he remembers that Ian’s scared of being a burden and what the hell's going to happen to them, and he remembers that he still needs the comfort right now even when he doesn't want to be babied. So all Mickey does is tilt his head to the side so he can kiss Ian’s cheek before he lifts up his hand to stroke his temple and then card his fingers through his hair because that seems to be his favourite thing to do right now. ‘’Course I do.’

There’s some déjà vu happening for Mickey here, but he doesn’t quite care, because Ian pushes himself back and beams at Mickey like he’s the fucking sun.

Ian goes to bite at Mickey’s chest, obviously trying to start up something, but he moves too quickly, and Mickey knows all too well what he’s feeling.

‘Ugh, I thought I could do this whole consummating our marriage thing, but my head is still murdering me,’ Ian moans, letting his forehead thump against Mickey’s chest.

‘We might’ve already done that last night, you never know.’ Mickey gently rolls Ian off him and reluctantly gets up off the bed, padding over to the doorway before looking back at the other man. ‘I’ll go get you some fuckin’ painkillers along with your meds.’

‘Thanks, husband!’

Mickey cringes at that and backtracks into the bedroom to see Ian’s wearing the exact same expression. Mickey shakes his head. ‘It’s cool that that’s what we are to each other now, but-‘

‘But let’s not call each other that unless we’re trying to be cute in front of people or whatever.’

Mickey scrunches his eyebrows together and then shakes his head again, making his way back out into the hall.

He’s married to that fucking dork.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm still taking prompts until the 31st :)](http://southsidemilkovich.tumblr.com)


End file.
